The Courtship of Hermione Granger
by LilyoftheValley77
Summary: Of all her friends, Hermione has always been the steady one more interested in her career. She has never been the leading lady, even in her own life. What happens when thanks to a new Ministry law, Hermione suddenly finds herself caught up with not only one serious suitor, but three? Who will she choose?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This chapter is short and a quick introduction. It's my take on the infamous Marriage law story, but I hope you like what I think is a refreshing twist on it.

Chapter One:

"Well, this is just ridiculous!" Hermione muttered, as she read through the letter once again. She had been overseas for Merlin's sake! The Ministry was not seriously considering imposing sanctions on her simply because she had not attended a few measly balls. After all, didn't she attend enough of the boring affairs immediately after the war?

Ginny grabbed the paper out of her hand to get her best friend's attention. "They are not joking, Hermione. Word leaked out that you had not been attending any of the required monthly functions and there was a backlash that you were getting preferential treatment. The Ministry has to start having you attend these events to show that no one is above the law. Rita Skeeter was more than pleased to write up several articles on this subject alone."

She rolled her eyes at the mention of the reporter's name and lunged to retrieve her mail from the red headed thief. "But I was on Ministry business!"

Ginny's practiced Quidditch reflexes easily out-maneuvered the halfhearted attempt. "The general public doesn't really care about that. You of all people know that as the initial four year period comes to an end and some people are still finding themselves unattached, that they are becoming more and more agitated that they are being forced into marriage."

Hermione paced the floor in her London flat. "And they should be! Let people find love on their own schedule! The ministry should not be meddling!"

"I don't disagree. But…" Ginny paused. "If the great war heroine, Hermione Granger gets special compensation and does not need to adhere to the new law, then others are going to feel that they deserve to be exempt as well. They have to enforce the rule with you as well or else they are going to look like they have mud on their face."

Hermione sighed. If she did not love her family and friends so, she would have just up and left and moved to the America's to avoid all this hassle.

The Ministry had decreed almost four years ago that anyone that has not married by the age of twenty-four will need to attend "Courting" Balls every month until the find a suitable partner to marry. If they failed to declare finding a suitable partner before the single person turned age twenty-eight, then the Ministry would choose one for them, which they would marry within ninety days of the match being made.

The Ministry had given all impacted female and males of age twenty four and older, an initial four year period to find their partners. Although Hermione loathed to admit it, to the Ministry's credit, the program did have a measure of success, and in the past few years, the wizarding population has increased.

But it did not mean that Hermione agreed with it and turned her attention back to Ginny. "It's easy for you! You married Harry practically right out of Hogwarts! You are pregnant with your second. You two are practically the Ministry's poster children for successful procreation!"

"Poster what?"

Hermione waved off Ginny's bewildered look at her muggle reference. "Ugh… never mind. Ask Harry what it means."

"Maybe I will. So when do you need to attend, anyway?"

Hermione looked down at the letter, even though she had the date memorized. "See? That's the thing. It's tomorrow night."

Ginny smiled. "Well, we don't have a lot of time then, do we? Let's get you shopping. If you have to do this obnoxious thing, you might as well look good."


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione fidgeted with her dress at the entrance to the gala, ignoring the flashes of light that were currently going off from cameras behind her. She never liked this part when she attended events; the inevitable shouts of her name in a vain attempt to get a member of the famous trio to pose for a picture. Despite her rebuffs to the media, she knew that she would be in the papers the very next morning anyways, probably on the gossip page, her name mentioned in an article that was of little substance beyond the designer that she was wearing.

She looked up at the sky, taking a calming breath.

"Are you planning on standing here all evening? Or are you waiting for your knight in shining armor to escort you in?"

The voice nearly made her jump out of her skin. She turned to the somewhat familiar voice, only to be surprised by the appearance of an old Hogwarts alum. "Oliver Wood! Whatever on earth are you doing here?"

The Scot's lip crooked up in a grin. "Same thing as you, I suppose."

She blushed. "Well, yes, of course you are. But I mean…I thought…"

Oliver gracefully took her arm and led her through the threshold. "It's okay. My fiancé and I broke up about a month ago so we had to dissolve our declaration to the Ministry."

"I'm sorry! I didn't know."

"Well, it's water under the bridge now, I suppose. But now, the Ministry is having me resume my attendance."

Hermione was going to respond, but just then Oliver led her through the most brilliant archway made of white tea roses and she found herself momentarily stunned as she took in the ballroom.

The edges of the room were transfixed into tranquil gardens, bluebells and lavender lining the edges of the dance floor, a string quartet playing amongst the blooms. The ceiling revealed a perfect night sky, with golden stars hanging mid air in such a tantalizing way that Hermione just wanted to reach out and pluck one. However, the true masterpiece stood at the very end of the ballroom, a royal empress tree in full bloom, towering over the crowd.

"Wow." She whispered.

Oliver leaned in. "Every ball is a different theme. My understanding is that designers from all over the world have been begging for the chance to put on a ball. This event is now considered one of the premier events in all of Europe and only us single folks can get in and a few reporters. Lucky, eh?" he said the last part dryly.

"I guess that is what some would say." She replied. "But it is beautiful. Wait. Did you say that reporters are in here?" she looked around wearily for signs of the media.

"Well, the reporters are from places like Witch Weekly and they are only invited in before the event itself to take pictures. Don't worry, they leave well before the event officially starts."

She smiled in relief. Just then a waiter walked by with glasses of champagne. Oliver grabbed two glasses, handing one to Hermione. "To meeting our true loves."

They clinked glasses and Hermione took a long sip of her champagne. "So… what happens now? Do we just mingle?"

Oliver surveyed the room momentarily before responding to her. "Usually. Sometimes they have a dinner planned, but I do not see any tables out there, and they normally let us know in our invitations ahead of time so I doubt that is on the agenda tonight. Pretty soon they will announce what the theme of the evening will be."

"What do you mean? Isn't it obvious?" Hermione waved her hand at all the nature surrounding them.

"The Ministry works to ensure that they expose you to who they feel might be the best match and they do it in a variety of ways. Sometimes it's dancing, sometimes dinner, and sometimes it is a game."

When Hermione's affronted appearance did not change, he continued. "Nothing to trouble yourself with; you typically only need to interact with the people they choose for a certain period of time. After that, the Ministry encourages mingling. It's actually a very nice way to meet new people and network. In the past few years I had attended, I actually landed my new job as a result of this event."

"What do you do now? Are you out of professional Quidditch?"

"Unfortunately, yes. They wanted to trade me to the Russian League, and well, I didn't feel like uprooting and starting over. So now I work designing brooms. Not quite the same as playing, but I found I like the job a lot and I still get to play recreationally."

"That's nice. I-"

Before Hermione could continue to carry on the conversation, a clear bell rang throughout the large room. All heads turned to where the proud tree stood. A woman, whom Hermione did not recognize, positioned underneath began to speak.

"Welcome all who are joining us for the first time and welcome back to those that are joining us again. Our hope is that you all have the opportunity to find the true love that you have been waiting patiently for."

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes at this and Oliver chuckled at her response.

The plump woman continued. "Normally, we have drinks and dancing, which, I assure you, will commence at the end of this evening's announcements. However, we have also added a new twist to this event. It has come to the attention of the Ministry that many of you are going to the monthly Gala's only. You have not had the chance to truly date anyone you have met here outside of this single event."

Hermione observed that Oliver grasped at his champagne just a bit tighter, the whites of his knuckles beginning to show. Clearly, he did not like where ever this was going.

"So, in a moment, this tree behind me will release its blooms. Every witch and wizard will receive three flowers from the tree. Two of the blooms will open at will when you come in contact with the person you are meant to go on a date with and their name will appear. The third bloom is a person of your choosing. The only requirement is that it be given and accepted by the end of the evening. If it is not accepted, all remaining names will be put in bowl and partnering will occur at random. Further instructions will follow from the ministry as to time and date of the rendezvous to ensure compliance. As always, the Ministry hopes that you will enjoy your evening!"

Murmurs spread through the room as this twist of events was revealed. Hermione's face was the not the only one she had witness that had soured at this revelation. She thought that this was going to be a mildly bothersome once a month requirement, something that she could for the most part ignore for at least a couple of years.

Oliver's face mirrored her own. "It appears that the ministry is upping their game," he muttered. "With the four year deadline passing for some of us in 3 months, it sounds like they are trying to ensure as little enforcing of their assigned marriages as possible."

Hermione looked down her half drunken glass. "Yes. It appears so. You only have 3 months left before they assign someone to you?" she hadn't talked to anyone that was so close to the deadline.

"I had just turned twenty four when the law went into effect."

Hermione glanced up to see the delicate purple petals begin to float through the air. Conversation levels decreased substantially as the crowd watched in awe at the enchanting piece of magic.

Three purple blooms came to rest in the palm of her hand and a few moments later, Oliver found himself with the same. She turned one over in her hand, pondering how the tree determined who she was to date. Was the tree like the sorting hat, a type of sentient magic that could sense your true self and therefore find a kindred soul that would complete yours? Or was it simply a matter of the Ministry going through a list, picking who they thought would be the best choice, and then forcing it on the attendees.

Hermione couldn't help but hope it was the former.

It was at that time Oliver grabbed one bloom and extended it to Hermione. He smiled sheepishly. "If I don't do this now, then I'm afraid that I will lose my opportunity. Hermione, would you like to go on a date with me?"

She smiled. While Oliver was certainly a good looking man, more importantly, Harry had always spoken very highly of his former Quidditch captain. He had always come across as being someone who was genuine and good, albeit a bit too passionate about Quidditch at times. She thought that it might actually be a very smart match. "I would love to, Oliver."

At the acceptance, a single bloom disappeared from in each of their grasps, and had magically attached itself to the lapel of his robe and the strap of her dress.

After finally agreeing to part ways with Oliver for a bit, Hermione looked out to the large crowd, pondering exactly who else it might be that the tree destined for her path to cross.

She took a step forward, anxious to find out the answer.


	3. Chapter 3

If the aching of the soles of Hermoine's feet were any indication, she was ready to call it a night. The only issue was that the witch still had yet to find her two mandatory dates that had been chosen for her. It wasn't for lack of trying. However, people did not simply understand the concept of organization. She thought the most reasonable manner would be to line up the men on one side, and the women on the other, with the women walking down, one at a time, meeting each man until she came across the two chosen for her and then they would slowly remove themselves from the taking.

When Hermione had suggested the idea to one male in the beginning of the evening, he simply stared at her as if she had three heads and told her, "That's very… clinical. Where is the fun in that?"

Apparently, most agreed with the stranger's thoughts. The ballroom overall was filled with laughter and chaos, with many people running around trying to find their partners, making it a game. Hermione could hear many exclamations of "Finally!" or "About Time!" throughout the room as the night wore on.

It was nearing midnight, and Hermione wondered if perhaps she would never find her partners. She decided to walk around the edge of the room, determined to enjoy the lavender at least. She walked methodically, noting those men that she had not had the opportunity to talk to face to face as of yet. Some she recognized from her personal life; for example, Seamus Finnegan, who now worked with her in the Ministry, was there chatting up a pretty blonde thing. Others she did not recognize, but she made eye contact with them just in case.

She wound her way through the crowd slowly, finally ending up by the Empress Tree. She noticed that the area was surprisingly empty, save for one dark skinned man that she could see was leaning on a wooden rail that separated the wizard and witches from the tree.

Hermione paused in front of the tree, admiring the hardwood up close. It was certainly not a tree that was indigenous to England, and she guessed from books she read regarding botany, that it was of an Asian origin. She became so lost in thought, wondering about the exact type of magic that was used to enchant the blooms, that the witch did not even notice the man who was near her had quietly made his way over to her and resting beside her.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" a lilting Italian accent commented.

Hermione jumped slightly, being pulled out of her thoughts. She blushed at the jerky movement, and tried to quickly gain composure.

The man continued, undeterred by her sudden movement. "The amount of magic it took to create it was enormous, a massive undertaking. The Ministry was quite worried it would never be completed in time."

"Were they now?" Hermione did not take her eyes off the tree, rather enjoying the prospect of a normal conversation and did not want to have the man simply stalk off once it was discovered she was not his match.

Luckily for her, it seemed that he was in as little a rush as her. "Oh yes. They used magic similar to the Sorting Hat but on a larger scale."

She felt gratified that her original assumption of the tree being somewhat sentient was correct. She couldn't help but ponder, "Why go through all this trouble for one single ball? I mean, it is a beautiful tree and all, but still…"

"This isn't simply a tree for the enjoyment of the ball tonight. It will hopefully be an invaluable tool for those who are unsuccessful in finding a partner that they can fall in love with."

Hermione's tone soured at the comment. "So you are saying that this tree is going to force people, free-willed people, to match up."

"No." the stranger continued. "What I'm saying is that it will hopefully prevent anyone from needing to have the Ministry decide their fate."

Hermione clutched the railing tighter. "People should still find love on their own time table."

She could see out of the corner of her eye that the gentleman did the same, resting his hands on the rail. "Sometimes people need help. They get so caught up in their professional lives, in their work that they forget to leave time for themselves and then wake up one day only to realize that they never got around to finding love."

"But what if they don't want to find love? What if all they want is to bury themselves neck deep in work? Some people are happy fighting and working for a cause." Hermione was very aware that this conversation bordered very close to the reality of her life.

"Well, that is a rather sad existence now, isn't it?"

"Sad? How is that sad?" she began to turn toward the man, and then thought better of it.

"With all the beauty of the world, to have one's only satisfaction come from a sixty hour plus work week? Satisfaction from a job can only bring so much happiness."

"So, you are telling me that this law, this _imposition_, doesn't bother you?" she veered the conversation in a direction that did not hit so close to home.

The man responded quietly. "Of course it does, but I accept the fact that it is what it is for now."

"I just don't think that a tree should help you find your destiny."

"Is it any different than the Sorting Hat at Hogwarts? We let a piece of magic determine our fate then; a piece of magic that is Ministry sanctioned, no less. We put the hat on our heads with no question; we allow it to guide us as to who are friends are, to tell us which quality we should value as important, Bravery, Intelligence, Kindness, and Cunning. Could we not make the argument that we should value all equally? Instead the Sorting Hat segregates from day one."

Hermoine did not want to admit to herself that the argument was logical and stubbornly continued her argument, albeit very weakly. "It's not the same."

"Is that so?" as the stranger's voice grew more passionate, his Italian accent became deeper, and Hermione thought she recognized it, but she could not place from where. "For hundreds of years, one could make the argument that the Hat has perpetrated prejudice. What if, one year, Hogwarts simply gave up the hat? What if we, as wizards, simply had the classes mixed randomly like muggles tend to. How much more would we have learned, how many other valuable friendships may have formed?"

"And how many wouldn't have?" She thought back to Harry and Ron. It was possible they may have crossed paths, but it wasn't a certainty.

"You're right. Many friendships would not have formed. It's always a give and take."

"Why are you so against the Sorting Hat?"

Without even looking, she just knew this stranger was smirking and she knew that she had been caught in his trap. It irked her that she knew what his next words were going to be. "I'm not against the Sorting Hat at all. Just like I'm not against the tree. The tree is not the enemy. This tree was created with the hope that it would help others in a situation that is less than ideal. It was created by people who wanted to make the best of a bad situation."

"And exactly how would you know all this? Surely the Ministry would want to protect its secrets?" She couldn't take it any longer. She twisted her body to confront the stranger face to face.

She was met by a handsome man with dark skin, the corners of his mouth upturning in a sly grin. She recognized him instantly.

"I designed it."

"Blaise? Blaise Zabini?" She hadn't crossed his path since they had graduated Hogwarts, one of the select few that had chosen to repeat their seventh year together after the war. Even then, she could only recall once or twice ever as having spoken to him.

"Hello, Hermoine."

She waved her hand at the tree. "You created this?"

"Surprised?"

"I never took you for someone interested in Herbology."

"Among other things. The tree is the heart of it, but there are many enchantments involved. In the interest of full disclosure," Blaise's voice lowered, "the Ministry outsourced to my mother's company to design something that would help them properly sort through the "stragglers" and pair them up. I came up with this idea, and with the help of other witches and wizards that are far more brilliant than I, we cultivated the tree, infusing the magic with it for the past year."

Hermione was going to say something else when she noticed that her purple bloom and the Italian's both began to slowly unfurl, their smoky names wisping upwards high into the air, swirling around each other's in an exotic dance, until they merged and disappeared in nothingness. Hermione noticed that unlike Oliver's bloom and hers sticking to his lapel and her dress, this bloom simply disappeared.

She looked into the Italian's eyes, noticing for the first time the feature that she had heard many girls like Padma and Lavender swoon over while in Hogwarts. The hazel was a beautiful contrast to his dark skin. She blushed just a little at the idea that the tree had chosen them, and she wondered why. "That was different. Before the blooms just attached."

Blaise smiled. "Each one responds a little different. Just like each pairing."

"Have you found your other two?"

He smiled. "Very first thing this evening in fact. I believe it was within five minutes of each other. You, however, have taken me all night. Though I suppose," Blaise leaned down close to her ear. "the best things are worth waiting for."

Hermione couldn't prevent the blush that rose to her cheeks.


	4. Chapter 4

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

Hermione stirred, burying her head deeper into her pillow, trying in vain to keep out the morning light that was just beginning to filter through.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

"Go away." The witch muttered to the now ardent pecking on her window.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. _

She sighed in frustration, not willing to leave the comfort of her bed. "Ugh… it's too early."

Being aware that it was a losing battle, Hermione threw back the blanket and rubbed her eyes, letting them adjust to the brightness that now filled the room. She pondered why she hadn't invested in a decent set of curtains, the kind that blocks out all light.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. _

"Yes, yes. I'm here," she replied irritatingly to the two owls that were waiting not so patiently on her sill. She padded her way across the wood floor in her bare feet, lifting open the window, the cool morning air hitting her face. "Who on earth sent you so early?"

Her only reply was a tilt of the head by the owl on the right. She grabbed two treats from a bowl she kept specifically for mail owls and looked at both messengers, neither of which she recognized. The first, a snowy white owl, was obviously well trained and carried itself rather regally. The letter it held in its talons had a red wax seal, the kind that many well off wizards still used in their correspondence. The second bird, the one on the right, was a standard barn owl, but beautiful in its own right. She noticed that it struggled a bit and clumsily held a rather large package.

"Well, that couldn't have been easy to carry, could it?" she said, carefully taking the package from its grasp. She feed the owl a treat as she stroked its feathers lightly and it cooed, quickly spreading its wings in response and taking off.

She turned her attention back to the first bird, and upon the letter being taken, bowed its head slightly and took off immediately, without even taking the offered treat.

Hermione stared for a moment after the retreating owl, before turning and setting the unexpected mail down on her modest table in the breakfast nook.

She found herself eying the package with curiosity as she prepared herself her mandatory cup of coffee. She had her first sip of the steaming beverage and sat down, unable to wait any longer to see what was delivered to her.

She examined the outside and found that it bore the ministry insignia on it. "_I wonder what they are sending me now. Wasn't attending the ball last night enough_?" she pondered.

Hermione ran her index finger alongside the seam of the package, gently lifting off the paper to reveal a beautiful wooden box. She ran her hands along the fine grain of the small case, looking for the nonexistent opening.

She grabbed her wand, attempting several incantations, all of which were unsuccessful. The witch frowned, walking slowly around the table, examining the parcel from all angles. "Well, aren't you a mystery?"

She noticed out of the corner of her eye, a letter that was attached to the brown parchment. "Of course! How did I miss that?"

She grabbed the letter and it came to life, similar in nature to the howler that Ron had received in his second year with the stolen car incident.

The ministry womans' voice from the previous night filled the air.

_"Thank you for attending the ball yesterday evening! We hope you found it as enjoyable as we did. The Ministry is pleased to announce that we had tremendous success with the event last night, pairing up almost every individual with their matches!"_

Hermione shuddered when she thought about her final match. Before she could linger on it much longer, the voice continued in a too chipper tone.

_"However, it does not end there! In order to assist in guiding you to your most amicable choice, we have enclosed the below package. It in includes the beautiful blooms you received last night and a lovely display case. However, you will be pleased to know that it is not purely decorative in nature! As you attend your dates, if that person does not seem to be a fit for either party, the bloom will then disappear, indicating that the match was not meant to be. This is to help aid and direct you towards true love!_

_If you should be so fortunate as to have more than one bloom remaining after your first round of dates, we encourage you to keep dating those people until only a single bloom remains._

_However, if all should disappear, not to worry; this is only supplemental to the balls themselves as well as your own efforts to find a suitable companion._

_Please expect three additional correspondences by owl. These letters will advise each party with the time, place, and type of date. We hope that you find this exercise in romance enjoyable!"_

The letter shredded itself apart, leaving scraps on her floor.

Just as Hermione was about to comment that they neglected to instruct the witches and wizards on how to open the box, it slowly lifted of its own accord; revealing the three blooms she had been bestowed with last night.

She decided to turn to the other letter, curious if it was from the Ministry with the whereabouts and time of her first date. She turned over the letter in her hand, a saw that the red seal revealed that this letter was not from the Ministry; instead, it was from Malfoy Manor.

She sighed loudly. "Great. What does he want?"

Hermione opened the letter and began to read.

_"I behaved reprehensively last night Granger, and for that, I am sincerely sorry. I was already on edge with one of my other choices being Daphne Greengrass. Add to that shock of seeing you as one of the chosen for me, and I just flew off the handle. Please know that my response had nothing to do with you as a choice, but rather of how ashamed I was over how I treated you when we were in school together. I like to think that over the past six years I have changed in my beliefs, and I hope you will take the apology for what it is, and forgive me for my actions._

_Sincerely,_

_Draco Malfoy"_

Hermione couldn't help but be shocked by his letter. Her mind immediately went back to the night before at the ball.

_Blaise had just finished whispering to her, "Though I supposed, the best things are worth waiting for." Hermione had blushed, trying to come up with an appropriate response._

_Instead her head turned, suddenly distracted, by a blond head off in the distance arguing with the woman making the announcements. _

_"For the last time, Mr. Malfoy, the tree is designed to find your most suitable matches. I have no control over who the tree picks as an acceptable partner for you, nor do I have any jurisdiction to overturn the choice."_

_"This is bloody ridiculous! You are telling me that you expect me to accept the sister of my ex-girlfriend as a choice?"_

_Blaise looked down at Hermione apologetically. "Excuse me. I think might be something I should try to take care of."_

_Blaise brushed by her gently, striding over to where her childhood nemesis, Draco Malfoy currently argued. She noted that Blaise stood at least a good three inches taller than the Malfoy heir; making him an imposing figure._

_Hermione couldn't help but casually move closer, not wanting to seem over eager to hear the conversation._

_The blond Slytherin looked put out and waived wildly at the tree. "Look, Blaise. I don't give a rat's ass if you helped design this thing. This tree is fucking broken."_

_Blaise looked unfazed. "Do you know how many hours our magicians put into this tree? How many layers upon layers of complex magic were applied to ensure that most accurate outcome for all involved? Do you think I would risk my own future to something unless I was not absolutely confident in its results?"_

_"I don't care how much magic is in this thing!"_

_"Have you ever known me to not be completely through in every task I do? You know I don't do anything in halves. I am all in and if that tree-" the Italian stated, pointing to his company's creation. "is telling you the Daphne Greengrass is a possible match; I would make sure that I pay damn close attention to her and give her a legitimate chance."_

_Draco, not having a sufficient response to Blaise, turned in the direction of where Hermione stood, his grey eyes penetrating hers. To her surprise, her final bloom and his, shot up out of their hands instantly and came crashing towards one another, combining and then disintegrating into nothingness. _

_Hermione caught Blaise frowning for the shortest of moments, but he quickly covered it with an impassive façade. Draco, on the other hand, did not hide his shock._

_He turned to the woman. "What the bloody hell was that?" pointing to the place where the now non-existent blooms collided._

_The woman opened her mouth, but Blaise interjected. "That-" he advised, "mate, was a match."_

_Draco stuttered. "I understand that. But it is with Granger. Your tree-" now pointing to Blaise. "Has gone bloody off its rocker. Now I am certain it is broken."_

_The woman interjected before Blaise could continue. "As Mr. Zabini has already attested to, this tree is designed to find the most compatible matches available. Though some," giving a sour glare at Draco and a sympathetic look at Hermione, "may be a bit more desirable then others."_

_"Well, your damn Ministry can impose as many damn sanctions and as many damn fines as it wants, because there is no way in hell that I am going on a date with her."_

_And with that, Draco Malfoy apparated out of the building._

Hermione shook herself out of her thoughts and stared down at the letter. She had a feeling the next month was going to be _very _interesting.


	5. Chapter 5

The next week went by in a blur- her career certainly kept her busy and she was exhausted. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy her job; in fact, it was quite the opposite. Being involved in the Foreign Magical Affairs department had afforded her the opportunity to travel the world. Why, just this week alone, she had apparated to China, America, and Brazil.

But it was now late Friday evening, and she was finally getting back to her flat. She opened up the door, and felt Crookshanks rub against her leg in greeting. Hermione bent down, scratching the half-Kneazle gently behind the ears, the animal purring in appreciation.

"Aww… I missed you too, Crookshanks."

She immediately strode over to her fridge, sifting through its limited contents for anything to make a meal out of. Largely unsuccessful, she settled for a long forgotten hard cheese she noticed tucked away in the back. It would at least make a decent snack along with some crackers and her sweet red wine that had sat ignored on her counter for far too long.

Pouring herself a liberal glass, Hermione spied the Post that Ginny had kindly picked up for her throughout the week sitting on the kitchen table. She walked over, sorting through most of it quickly. Most of it was adverts that she had no use for. Stuffed at the very bottom, there was one letter of interest, one that she had been anticipating and dreading all at once.

With a long sip of her wine, she opened up the correspondence.

_Ms. Hermione Granger:_

_We are pleased to inform you that your first date has been arranged. We ask that you meet the below individual promptly at the following time:_

_Blaise Zabini_

_Saturday, June 20th_

_1:00pm_

_A portkey will be delivered to your residence the morning of and you may apparate home at any point after the hour time requirement has been filled. Please note, all portions of this date have been paid for and arranged by the Ministry. As this date will take place outdoors, the Ministry advises that you dress appropriately. _

Hermione knocked back her wine glass, finishing her wine in one large gulp. Her mind immediately began to wander to the next afternoon and a sinking feeling began to settle in the pit of her stomach. Her eyes flitted to the blooms that sat displayed; three blooms, representing three men that could potentially lead to something more. She then thought of Malfoy and amended her statement. Well, two men that could potentially lead to something more at least. The only thing that Draco Malfoy would ever lead to was almost certainly disaster.

After a night of fitful sleep, Hermione awoke to find that the portkey, a candle, arrived with little fanfare. As the clock struck one, Hermione fiddled with her wand, staring at the portkey; she wasn't sure why she was nervous. After all, Blaise most likely held no interest in her and she held no interest in him. This was simply an obligation that needed to be met.

But still, the witch hadn't been on a date in over a year and the last one was rather disastrous at that.

"Just do it already, Hermione!" she chastised herself.

Sighing, she stuffed her wand in her pocket and grabbed the candle forcefully, the object sending her flying through time and space, landing her less gracefully then she would have liked on a grassy patch. She looked at her immediate surroundings, noting the large lake in front of her.

"Hello, Hermione." An Italian voice cut through the air.

She jumped slightly and turned. She was surprised by what she saw; Blaise was dressed down in jeans, fashionable jeans at that; and a light violet button down shirt. She was used to Harry wearing muggle clothes, but purebloods? It had seemed based on her previous interactions with them that denim was almost a dirty word.

Hermione looked at Blaise, who precariously stood on the edge of an at least fifty year old rowboat, his hand extended, palm upwards. "I promise, I won't let you fall in the water."

She crossed her arms. "You know, I am sure that you could just mutter a simple levitating spell, like Wingardum Livosa and land me very gently on the boat."

He wore a knowing smile. "True. But this is much more fun."

She sighed and reached out to clasp his palm. He tugged her onboard, the wooden vessel wobbling precariously. She tried to straighten herself, but she began to lose balance.

Blaises' free hand grasped her waist to balance her, and in the process, accidentally pulled her up against him. Hermione found her hand resting against the Italian's button down shirt. She blushed at the intimate position she found herself in and moved rather quickly to sit down on the boat.

He sat down as well, picking up the oars and began to row slowly, the vessel gliding through the water. She couldn't help but admire how his shirt emphasized his chest and shoulder muscles with each movement.

"This is quite lovely." She commented, looking around at the lake and she spied the picnic that had been set up on the other side.

"I have heard that the Ministry has done a fantastic job setting up these dates," he agreed. "So tell me the truth, how much do you remember of me from Hogwarts?"

"I never really knew you well in Hogwarts," she admitted. "I knew that you were Italian, girls liked you, but you had a reputation for being…"

"Selective?" Blaise answered carefully.

"Forgive me, but you had a reputation of being better than everyone else."

He chuckled. "Even more than Malfoy?"

"You were quiet about it. If you had the right blood and the right pocketbook, then Malfoy befriended the person. But you… it didn't matter who it was, you were superior."

"I'm glad you didn't sugarcoat it, Hermione."

She blanched at her bluntness. She was supposed to be on a date and here she was insulting the man and they were not even five minutes into it. "That was rude, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Your bluntness is refreshing. I was that way in school. It was a defense mechanism."

"What do you mean?"

"I purposefully never got close to anyone. The easiest way was to be off-putting and arrogant."

"Why?"

Blaise stopped rowing. "Well, we are going rather deep now for a first date aren't we? No chit-chat of what is your favorite book? What is it you do for a living? Do you have a pet?" He smiled, letting Hermione know that he was only teasing. "Don't get me wrong; I don't necessarily mind."

Hermione grasped the sides of the boat as it tilted slightly. "When our class has gone through as much as we have, and we were on the opposite sides of the war, I feel like in order to progress, we need to clear the air so to speak."

He shrugged. "Fair enough." He expelled a large breath and resumed rowing. "So the question was why did I never get close to anyone, correct?"

She nodded.

"Well, I felt stuck in the middle of it all. Here I was, a Slytherin, a pureblood, surrounded by death eater families. However, my mother-" Hermione did not miss the drip of disdain he used with that word, "never took a side and taught me to never take a side until you knew which was the winning one."

When Hermione went to protest, he held up his hand to stop her. "but that was not the reason I did it. I was in difficult situation. I was surrounded by people who would literally make my life a living hell every day if I told them I did not believe in all the blood purity rubbish. So I played along just enough where they thought I held their beliefs, but at the same time, couldn't stand most of them enough to really be friendly."

Hermione was shocked at the revelation. She was quiet for a minute before responding. "That must have been a lonely seven years."

"It was a self imposed loneliness. It's why I did so well in school. Be honest with yourself; if it wasn't for Potter and Weasley, wouldn't you have been the same way?"

She knew it was true. If it wasn't for Harry, she probably would have been all by herself, immersing herself into her studies ever further, if even possible. "Did you have any friends? I always thought that you were friends with Malfoy?"

"Draco? We were at best- acquaintances. Now he is an alright fellow and I see him now and again."

"Do you have a best friend?"

Blaise smiled. "My best mate has always been Theo."

"Theo?" she was trying to place who that was. "Theodore Nott?"

"Yes. He was the one chap that I knew that stayed away from the fray like me for the most part. Despite his father."

Before she could inquire further, Blaise asked her a question. "Are you still close to Potter and Weasley?"

"Harry, yes. We still see each other all the time. Ron, not so much." She looked down at the bottom of the rowboat.

"Is it okay if I ask why?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Let's just say it didn't end well. We typically try to avoid each other whenever possible."

To her relief, he did not inquire further. Instead, he pulled the boat alongside the dock, jumping up to tie it so it did not float away. When he was done, he offered Hermione his hand again, and she slipped her palm into his, this time realizing how nicely hers fit into his.

Over an hour and a half later, Hermione and Blaise had made good work of the picnic that the Ministry had spread out for them. Hermione was thoroughly enjoying herself, talking about an array of subjects and finding they both had a lot in common. She enjoyed the banter and the intelligent debate that Blaise provided. She found herself staring at her Hogwarts alum, surprised by how different, and yet, how similar he seemed from his years at the school. "I must admit," she stated, "you are different then what I pictured you to be."

"What do you mean?" he asked, popping a strawberry in his mouth, a bit of the juice escaping to his lower lip, which he quickly lapped up with his tongue.

"I mean," Hermione tried to say this delicately. "the jeans, the books you read, the muggle technology you carry around. It's just…"

"Different?" he offered.

"No. It's very natural. For example, a lot of people in the wizarding community have a very difficult time incorporating any of this. But with you, it is almost like you grew up as a muggle. But of course, we all know you didn't."

He shook his head, his brown eyes staring into hers. "I will let you in on a secret."

She leaned in. "Okay."

"When I was in Hogwarts, in third year, I took Muggle Studies."

Hermione thought back to her time turner. "No, you didn't. I would have remembered if a Slytherin had taken muggle studies. They always claimed it was too lowly for them."

"Exactly. That is why I went to Dumbledore and asked if I could secretly be tutored in Muggle Studies. I would have been ostracized from my peers."

"If you knew you would be ostracized if they found out, what made you want to take the class then?"

He cocked his head, his hazel eyes staring into hers. "You."

Hermione couldn't move away from his intense gaze. "Me?"

"Yes. Up until I met you, I had been convinced that those of muggle birth were inferior. After all, they didn't have the proud heritage that we did, they barely had magic flowing through their veins. How could they ever be comparable to us?"

It was an argument that she had heard Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson insult her with time and time again during her school years. She felt her old insecurities begin to rise up again just at the mention of the words.

But Blaise continued, "Then you proved that all wrong. From day one, you were top of our class. Besting everyone, including all the Ravenclaws, myself, Theo, and Draco. Without being told more than once, you could reproduce any spell almost instantly, or perfect any potion. The magic that was in your veins was just as strong as any purebloods, and it was then I knew that perhaps I had always under estimated muggleborns."

"So how did Dumbledore react to your request?"

"He was more than happy to grant my request and it was then I began to study with Professor Burbage."

Hermione thought of the fallen professor. "How long did you study with her?"

"I studied with her for all four years, until she didn't return our seventh year." Blaise's voice got quiet. "she was the best professor I ever had. I know all Slytherin's loved Snape, but Burbage taught me so much about the world outside my little bubble."

"It must have been hard to lose her."

"I didn't know what had happened to her until after the war was over," he replied sadly.

"She must have done a great job teaching you, because you seem very comfortable around muggle things."

"Well, her tutoring helped for sure. After everything ended, I took the next four years and studied at Oxford."

She was impressed and very surprised. "Oxford?"

"I wanted to live completely outside of what happened in our world. I was not welcome in many circles because of my affiliations with the Slytherins. I just wanted to escape it all. It was interesting to have dorm room, use a computer, and order Pizza. I threw myself in my studies and studied business and leadership."

"That must have been useful to your family business." Hermione's opinion was that wizarding community never spent enough time focusing on continuing education; instead their focus was in on the job training and apprenticeships.

"Definitely. I primarily spend my time in the research and development department. I enjoy it. What did you do immediately after the war? I know that you work for the Foreign Magical Affairs Department at the Ministry now."

"After the war, I spent my time between London and Australia."

"Australia? Why?"

Hermione launched into the story of erasing her parents memories and going back to restore them. She found herself sharing detailed that she had never told anyone, such as what was going through her mind when she erased their memories, the fear that gripped her heart that they would never remember her, or worse, that despite her best efforts, the Death Eaters located them and killed them anyways.

Blaise listened attentively, only occasionally asking a question now and again. She had never shared the whole story from beginning to end with anyone; those that were directly in her life were aware of what had happened already and inherently knew that she did not like to relive that period. She found recounting the tale to Blaise very therapeutic, his manner comforting and reassuring.

When she finished, Blaise placed his hand on hers. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being willing to open up like that to me. It's not easy." Blaise looked her in the eyes, and Hermione found herself captivated by his hazel eyes. Just when she thought that he may lean in and kiss her, he pulled his hand away and stood up.

Blaise brushed off his pants and then offered his hand to Hermione, pulling her up. "It's probably best that we head back."

Before Hermione could ask why, she heard a clasp of thunder in the distance and a drop of rain, followed by another. She looked up at the darkening sky praying that the impending storm would hold off for a little while longer. "I suppose you're right."

As if responding in denial to her request, the rain began to pour down around them. Blaise still somehow managed to look composed as he shouted over the torrent of rain, "I think now might be an ideal time to end our date. I had a nice time this afternoon, Hermione. Would it be too bold if I asked you for another date now?"

Despite her positivity that she now looked like a drowned rat, she smiled at the Italian. "Not at all. I would love to."


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: I know it's been a while, working on things on the next two chapters, but was hoping this might tide you over. :)

Hermione popped back home, immediately running into the bathroom to rub a towel against her now drenched hair. She stared at herself in the mirror, a small smile appearing on her lips in spite of the fact that her clothes and hair clung to her in the most unappealing manner.

She rubbed her hair thoroughly, her mind drifting to her third year at Hogwarts. She ran a brush through her auburn locks almost absentmindedly, her thoughts stuck on the courage it must have taken a third year Slytherin student to ask Dumbledore to take Muggle Studies in private. She imagined a younger version of Blaise. Now that she thought back on it, she did often recall seeing the boy in one of the darkened corners of the library, sometimes giving her a glare or two when he noticed her curious glances. At the time, she had assumed it was just another Slytherin with their blood prejudices showing. However, looking back, she now wondered if those were instances where he was keeping a secret hidden and she supposed that those wary glances could have been misconstrued by herself.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she barely heard the familiar pop into the living room. When it finally registered a second later, she poked her head out of the loo to see Ginny.

Without so much as even a hello, the redhead blurted out, "So how was it? Awful? Fantastic? I don't even know how the Ministry picked him and Draco Malfoy."

"How did you even know I was home from the date? I just came in!"

Ginny at this least good sense to look sheepishly at her. "This may or may not have been my fourth time apparating into your flat to see how the date went."

"I swear, Mrs. Potter..." Hermoine turned and and put the brush on her vanity, before answering to her friend. "But to answer your question, no, it was not awful."

Ginny stared, arms crossed, her foot tapping impatiently. "And?"

Hermione barely obliged. "He was nice."

Ginny plopped on the couch."Seriously? I need more then that."

Hermione, unlike Ginny, had never been the type of girl to spill every detail. "Maybe later. How about over coffee we can talk about it tomorrow."

She sighed, aware that she would not get much more out of her. "At least tell me this. Are going to go out with him again?"

Hermione's lips upturned slightly as she thought about his invitation. "Yes. I think I will."

The next few days flew by in blur. Hermione had a series of meetings with the Magical officials in South America. It was tiring work and work that kept her quite busy. When the work day was done, Hermione politely declined the invitations that the she received for tours of Rio de Janeiro. In reality, all Hermione wanted to do was relax, sit on her hotel room balcony, and enjoy the ocean view.

Wine glass in hand, she she walked on the balcony, closing her eyes, listening to the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore. She took a sip of the local vineyards best vintage, when she was interrupted by a voice.

"Granger."

She jumped slightly, her hands automatically fumbling for her wand. There was no mistaking that voice. The blond man stood there, the slender frame of his body leaning against the railing, his arms crossed with some sort of paper in his hands. "Malfoy! What on bloody earth are you doing here!"

He eyed her with the same infuriating smirk he had worn so many times in Hogwarts. "You know, even outside of my social circles, it's considered impolite to stand somebody up."

Hermione huffed, setting her wine glass down with a bit more force than she should have. Her stance moving to match his. "What on earth are you on about?"

Draco threw the paper he had down on the small table gracing the balcony. "This."

Hermione picked up the paper to reveal it was The Daily Prophet, and on the front page was a rather large picture of Draco Malfoy glancing at his watch, tapping his foot impatiently.

_Magical World's Most Eligible Bachelor Stood Up?_

_This reporter has it on good authority that Draco Malfoy has been paired up with Golden Girl Hermione Granger as part of the Ministry initiative to help the wizards and witches find love. However, when the CEO of Malfoy Enterprises showed up yesterday evening at the new trendy restaurant, Runes, the war heroine never showed. _

Hermione skimmed through the rest of the article, her lips in a thin line, as the reporter made broad inaccurate assumptions about Draco as well as Hermione. When she put the newspaper down, she looked up. "I didn't know the Ministry had set up a time for us. My job has had me in South America almost all week."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow and brushed past her into her hotel room. "Well, I got the message and I was in Japan."

"Please, do make yourself at home." she replied haughtily, amazed that he felt he could just come in.

"I intend to." He walked over to her desk where there was a pile of work, beginning to shuffle through it.

She walked over, grabbing the paperwork from him. "Excuse me! What exactly do you think you are doing? This is confidential!"

"Tsk, tsk, Granger. If you were my employee, I would have you fired for leaving it out and about."

Hermione could feel the tips of her ears burn red, a hex just dying to leave her lips towards the arrogant Slytherin. "I just got back and I wasn't expecting anyone to apparate on my hotel balcony, thank-you-very-much."

As she shuffled through the papers, a familiar looking envelope fell to the ground, similar in nature as to when she received notification of her date with Blaise Zabini. "What the?" She opened the letter, confirming it was indeed a directive from the Ministry to meet Draco Malfoy for dinner yesterday evening. She looked up at him accusingly, even though she knew her thought was ridiculous. "Did you place this there?"

"Are you daft? Are you seriously accusing me of apparating all the way to Rio de Janeiro just to place an envelope in your possession?" When she did not answer, he responded, "Of course I did not put that in there, Granger."

"Why did you come here then?"

"I came here to fulfill our date requirement. I went to the Ministry and they gave us an extra forty eight hour extension to be in compliance."

She nodded. "I'm sorry, Draco." The use of his first name sounded a bit strange on her lips. "I don't know how I missed that. I had assumed that they would take into account our work schedules, especially as I work for them."

"Yeah, I almost told them to shove up their British arse."

Her lips tilted up in just the slightest manner. "So… how will this work?"

"Well, you see, a man takes out a woman…"

She rolled her eyes. "Funny. You know what I mean."

"I figured that I would go back to my hotel room for a few minutes…"

"You are staying in Rio?" Hermione interrupted.

"Yes, Granger. Coming back and forth between Japan, England, and Rio is really messing with my schedule and I didn't want to risk apparating and splinching myself due to exhaustion. Do you have a problem with that?"

She found him incredibly infuriating, and replied, "No need to be arrogant. Of course not."

"I figure I will pick you up in a couple of hours where we can go out for a drink."

She looked at the clock on the wall. It was only five thirty, still plenty early. Hermione eyed the paperwork that she had placed on the bed. The work that was going to get done this evening was going to need to be put off, she was afraid. "I am agreeable to that."

The blond nodded, and turned to leave the room and he was about to shut the door, he poked his head back in. "Oh, and Granger, I would wear something nice. I bet you all the Galleons you own that some reporter will still manage to take a picture of us despite the fact that we are all the way in bloody Rio de Janeiro."


	7. Chapter 7

The door had no sooner shut, when Hermione marched back over to the bed where the newspaper had been discarded and picked it up. Skimming the article one more time, her annoyance increased steadily with each line.

She sighed, tossing the paper back down. It seemed that lately, The Daily Prophet was nothing more than a gossip magazine. They dedicated a tremendous amount of front page real estate to covering the Marriage Law, which seems to be little more to them than a spectator sport.

She wasn't sure what annoyed her more; the fact that the Daily Prophet seems to romanticize the absurd law, or the fact the Ministry is so inept that they fail to communicate interdepartmentally to avoid a fiasco like the one she faced now.

She contemplated sending an owl to her boss about the whole situation, but she decided that it was a conversation better to have in person. If her department wanted her to dedicate her time and attention to her job the way they expected her to, then she could not have distractions such as worrying if she had a "date" when she was abroad.

She huffed loudly at the thought before shoving it aside and jumping into the shower to remove the remnants of the day. As she shampooed her hair, thoughts of Draco Malfoy plagued her. She truly hadn't given him much thought in the past few years until recent events transpired.

He was an utter prat at Hogwarts; and in truth, he oftentimes made her life miserable there. She couldn't fathom why he had been picked as a potential compatible husband. The Gryffindor began picking apart what she knew of him. He was intelligent, an elitist, and a successful entrepreneur who took Malfoy Industries from the brink of bankruptcy to the thriving company it is today. If the Daily Prophet was to be believed, he was previously engaged to Astoria Greengrass and then she broke it off with him.

There were many questions that hung heavily in the air. Did he still hold any beliefs that muggleborns are less superior to purebloods? Could she really move on from previous wrongs he made when they were in school? Did he even deserve a second chance?

She shook the thoughts from her head, wrapping the fluffy towel around her body and walked out into the main room. Rio was unique in the sense that it didn't have just one main wizarding section, instead there were pockets all throughout the city .Since Malfoy did not give any inclination of where they were going in the city, Hermione stood in front of the small closet weighing her options. Most of the clothes that were hanging up ready to go were business attire, and she knew a suit would not fit in this situation.

At least she had her expandable bag with her. Hermione prided herself to have the foresight to keep on hand a variety of clothes on her business trips, just in case the need ever arose.

She rummaged through the bag, discarding several garments before finding one that she deemed appropriate. The sundress was the opposite of what she usually wore, and she had bought it on a whim while in the States a few months ago. It was a bright and playful aqua color, and the fabric light enough that she wouldn't melt in the heat of the Brazilian night.

As she made a last minute change from the practical flats she was wearing into a pair of beachy heels, she heard a knock on the door that alerted her to Malfoy. Grabbing her clutch, she opened the door. "Come in."

Draco stepped in the room, appraising her quickly. "I do say Granger, you clean up nicely."

"Thank you. You are not so bad yourself." She felt like she was clearly in an alternate reality at this point. It was true he did look nice. Tan Khakis and a linen white button down shirt. But still, to give Malfoy a compliment… she smiled to herself, thinking how if Ron was a fly on the wall, he would be going absolutely berserk that she said _anything_ nice to the ferret.

"Of course I do; us Malfoy's always look put together." She was relieved to note that there was no true arrogant air to the comment, instead it was was said with a lightheartedness she was unaccustomed to hear fall from Malfoy's lips.

"So.. drinks you said?" She confirmed hopefully. She had a distinct feeling in order to move past her own prejudices for the evening, alcohol might need to be involved.

"Well, I thought that we could head to the wizarding community in Lapa. I take it you have not had dinner either?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, I'm a bit famished."

Since there was no floo network, they chose to walk since it was not far. Hermione and Draco tried to fill the silence with small talk. She felt strange asking him normal first date questions, and each knew in generalities what the other was up to since school ended. The conversation was stunted, choppy, and just plain awkward.

Finally, after the eighth attempt at benign conversation, Draco gave an exasperated sigh. "I give up, Granger. There is Hippogriff in the room that we just are trying to ignore and I for one do not think it's working. Do you?"

She turned to him, ignoring the people that were pushing past them. "No, it's not."

"We are trying to pretend that I was not an ass to you in school and everything was fine. It wasn't. So let me just say this- I was an prejudiced brat who gained great pleasure in making your life hell. It annoyed the hell out of me that a muggle was top of our class and bested me time and time again. I didn't like you. Wait, I take that back. I didn't just not like you, I loathed you."

Hermione ground her teeth and crossed her arms. "Don't hold back, Malfoy."

He gave a cocky smirk that she wanted to smack off his face. "Trust me, I'm not. So where was I? Oh yeah. I loathed you. I mean, I did not just loathe you but in some ways hated you more than Potter and the Weasel…"

"I get it already!" she was really beginning to get exasperated. "It's not like there was not any love lost on my end either."

Draco chuckled. "And all this time, I thought you were infatuated with me, Granger."

The crowds cleared a bit and Draco began to stroll down the street. Hermione stared after him and when she realized he was not going to wait for her, she rolled her eyes and marched to catch up with him. He continued on with the story, not missing a beat. "So I loathed you. But then there you were, stuck in my hellhole of a Mansion, being attacked by my aunt, and I didn't loathe you quite so much anymore. My life and my parents lives were practically forfeit if we stepped one toe out of line and you… the three of you were all there trying to end the madness and I did nothing to stop it or help you.

"I was a coward, you know. My entire life I had been a coward, hiding behind the threats of tattling to my father, believing that I was superior because I was born not only a pureblood, but a Malfoy pureblood at that. A seed had been planted that night, that perhaps all this superiority rubbish was just that, utter rubbish. Anyways-" he took a deep breath. "After the trials, I sought out a wizard in America who studied Psychology. I pay him very well to help me sort out my issues. I don't hate you anymore, but it took me a long time and a lot of therapy to begin to dispel that notion of superiority.

"Don't get me wrong, I am still an ass and prat, but more of a open minded ass and prat. And for what it's worth," he turned to her, a look passing his face that she couldn't describe. "I should have said this a long time ago. I am sorry. For everything."

Hermione was quiet, taking it all in. Finally, she responded with a simple. "Thank you."

Draco's shoulders relaxed and Hermione had not realized how much tension he had been holding, waiting to hear her response. He cocked his head slightly, looking at her. "So, now that we got that all out of the way. I am in the mood to get thoroughly sloshed. You?"

The restaurant the ended up at was simply called Mágica. It was loud, full of life, and packed to the brim with patrons. The Malfoy name apparently had a far reach, because they were offered to be seated at the best table in the house. They immediately declined, instead choosing two seats at the bar.

Several hours later, they had feasted on local delicacies and had several large glasses of something called a Caipirinha. She was surprised to find that Draco was actually incredibly witty and not bad company. Of course, it might have been the alcohol.

As Draco waved the bartender down for another couple of rounds and a couple of shots, Hermione asked, "Why do you think that the tree chose the two of us? I mean, it's not exactly as if we are on friendly terms, Draco."

"I don't think the tree takes friendliness into account. But on my end, it somewhat makes sense." Draco confessed. "I can't stand dating vapid women. So many women that pursue me are only after my fortune. Many of them, I cannot hold a real conversation with. You are neither of these things. You have your own money from the war and could care less about the Malfoy title, plus you are one of the most intelligent people I know."

Draco grabbed a shot glass and shoved one over to her. "What is this?" she asked, lifting the shot and examining it in the dim lighting.

"Don't ask, Granger. Just drink it." After she gave it another weary glance, he huffed. "Merlin, it's not like I put a… what do muggles call it? Ruffie in it."

"Roofie. It's called a roofie. And I know that." She held the drink towards him. "What should we drink to?"

He held his shot less than an inch from hers. "To getting reacquainted."

"To getting reacquainted," she parroted. They clinked the glasses and threw back the alcohol, slamming the now empty drink on the wooden bar. She shook her head and and gasped at the burning sensation.

Malfoy snickered at her reaction. "As to why the tree chose me for you, well that is obvious."

The bartender placed a new drink in front of Hermione and she took a sip, curious as to his thoughts. "And why is that?"

He leaned in closely to her, the scent of citrus cologne filling her senses. "Because I am incredibly handsome and a fantastic shag."

She pushed him away and he laughed. As they finished their last round, Hermione's eyes kept flitting over to the dance floor, watching the many couples confidently move together in tandem. Her alcoholic addled mind wished that she could dance like that. Draco noticed, and his right hand grasped hers. "What do you think you are doing?"

"Besides being great in bed, I am also a fantastic dancer."

It must have been the liquid courage, because Hermione only weakly protested, "But I don't really dance."

Samba music blared from the speakers and Draco dragged her through the crowd, confidently placing one of her hands on his shoulder and the other firmly in his own when they located an open spot. He began to lead her across the dance floor and Hermione attempted her best to keep up and mimic his movements. She was impressed with his skill. Most men she knew only did that strange shuffle that they passed off for dancing.

"Granger, close your mouth, you'll catch flies." Draco advised casually as he twirled her.

"Where did you learn to dance like this?"

"My mother made me take dance lessons every summer prior to all the...well, let's just say I learned every wizarding waltz to every international type of dance there was. The Samba originated with wizards, you know."

Hermione made a mental note to check out that fact for its accuracy. Draco's hand rested on her waist, and pulled her closer into him, before pushing her lightly away.

It was a constant push and pull throughout the dance. With each push away, he pulled her in closer, her body curving into his. With the final beats of the music, she found her body completely against his and he tightened his grasp against her, pulling her impossibly closer.

She couldn't help but notice that despite his outward appearance of being coltish, his body was well-defined and he clearly took good care of it. Her cheeks flushed as her body reacted to being in such close proximity to his.

She quickly untangled from him and Draco wore a look of satisfaction as if he realized what type of reaction he had on her suddenly. "I'm afraid I need to head back. It's already later than I intended to stay out and tomorrow is going to be a long day."

"Are you sure you don't want just one last dance, Granger?" He murmured, his breath tickling her ear, his hands landing on her waist.

She replied much too quickly, "Yes, I'm sure."

When they arrived back at the hotel, Draco walked her to her room. Hermione put the key card in the slot and turned to the Slytherin. He leaned one arm against the wall, looking down at her. "You know, this date didn't go nearly as bad as I thought it would. I must say Granger, it was almost… tolerable."

She raised her eyebrows. "You were still a prat."

"But an open minded prat." he reminded her with an almost gentle smile. With his free hand, his crooked index finger gently lifted up Hermione's chin, raising her brown eyes to his stormy grey ones. "I would like to take you out in London when you return, Hermione."

It was the first time he had used her God given name all evening, and something about the way he said her name was like a soft caress, setting her stomach aflutter. She didn't like it. But what bothered her more was that she didn't _not _like it either. This was Draco Malfoy, and despite his apologies, his charms, and intelligent wit, she did not know if mentally she was ready to move on from past transgressions. Quietly, she responded, "I'd like to think on that, Draco."

He pulled away, bidding her a quick goodnight. He began to walk away confidently, her response not dissuading him in the least. "When you are done thinking, you know how to find me, Granger."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author Note: My apologies on the delay. Tried to write, and I was just blocked completely. This is not close to perfect, but it propels the story along. Thank you all for understanding!**

_**Secret Rendezvous for War Heroine and Wizarding World's Most Eligible Bachelor **_

_Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy were seen the other night together, all the way down in Rio de Janeiro! Is it possible that the hot and trendy Runes stand up was just a ploy so they could spend alone time together? _

_Multiple sources, not to mention the photographic evidence shown above, confirm that the both of them were enjoying each other's company tremendously during a sultry Samba. Rumor has it that the CEO of Malfoy Enterprises went up to Ms. Granger's room after leaving the world famous Mágica… _

"Ugh!" Hermione shouted, crinkling up the newspaper with both hands, not bothering to read the rest of the article. The picture taken was at the end of the night, when the two shared that dance. She threw the offending article at the redhead who delivered the news.

Ginny dodged the paper effortlessly. "So?"

When Hermione did not respond, Ginny continued. "Hermione, it took every feminine wile I have to convince Harry to not show up here directly and ask you what in the hell were you thinking. I can only hold him off so long."

Hermione turned to the window, letting out a big sigh. She stared off into the streets below, watching some children play. "I don't know. He wasn't awful, Ginny."

Ginny raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms "Oh, well that explains why you looked so cozy with him. Every girl dreams of finding someone who 'wasn't awful'. High standards you set for yourself, Hermione."

Hermione childishly stuck her tongue out at the Harpies player. "Funny, Gin. One of the first things he did was apologize for when he was in school. And then there was this drink… called a Caipirinha that we both had _many_ glasses of. He was witty and charming, and a great dancer. Did I mention, we had a few glasses of Caipirinha?"

"I think you did mention that. So what happened after the picture?"

"Nothing." When Ginny gave her a look, she did not relent. "Really. Nothing happened. He walked me back to my hotel room, asked me out on another date, and I said I would need to think about it. End of date."

"You need to think about it? The ferret? You are just going to forgive him for all those years of harassment, calling you a…. a …"

"Mudblood. Yes, Ginny. I am very aware of the awful and ugly names he used to call me. And that is exactly why I said I had to think about it. I don't know if I can forgive him."

"There's a but in there. I can feel it."

She plopped down next to her friend. "I hate even admitting this, Ginny. But I was… oh Merlin... I-was-attracted-to-him." she spit out the last words in a rush.

"How many of those.. Capa-whatevers did you have again?"

"Four big, tall, glasses. I was feeling rather nervous. Do you really think it could have just been the alcohol?" she glanced nervously where the three blooms still stood on her mantle. Neither Blaises' nor Dracos' blooms had disappeared, so both were still interested. She had been afraid that perhaps the Daily Prophet article had dissuaded Blaise, but it appears that was not the case. Or, Hermione amended, Blaise had simply not seen the article yet.

"Draco's a good looking bloke, Hermione. You would have to be blind not to notice that."

She followed Hermione's line of sight and let out a heavy sigh. "So who do we have left? Just Wood , right?"

Hermione was relieved for the change in conversation. "Yes. I received an Owl as soon as I arrived home. They set a date for this weekend."

"Well, Wood definitely has to be at the top of your list. I mean, he is handsome, kind, a Gryffindor, _and_ he plays for Puddlemere United."

"You know that last part does not impress me, right Ginny?"

"Well, it impressed your best girlfriend, so that alone should count high in his favor."

When the weekend finally came around, she hadn't heard a thing from either Blaise nor Draco, and Hermione had to admit that she was a bit relieved. She was just not very comfortable with this whole dating thing, and now that she was going out with a third bloke, well, Hermione rather felt like a tart.

Hermione walked up to the pre-arranged place that the Ministry had picked out to meet Oliver Wood. It was a park that was used in the magical community, and she anxiously looked around to see if her date had arrived.

She located him on the far side of the field, his head bent down, fiddling with something. When she yelled his name, he glanced up, his smile bright even in the fading afternoon light.

"Hermione!" he yelled, his scottish brogue coming out fully. "You made it!"

"Yes, I…" she stopped suddenly, eyeing what Oliver held in his hands. "What is that?" she asked accusingly.

"Well, now, I guess we are going to have to have to have a conversation with Headmaster McGonagall, about the lessons you received from Madame Hooch. Apparently, they were quite lacking."

Hermione crossed her arms. "You know what I meant."

Oliver winked. "Aye, I did. I thought I would make our date a bit more exciting."

"Oliver Wood, that 'thing' is not going to make the date more exciting."

"You are hurting my brooms feelings, Hermione." he continued jovially. Then, in a sudden change, Oliver took several steps forward and bent down, his words only for her ears. "Rumor has it that the Ministry is monitoring our "dates". That doesn't settle well with me. I would prefer privacy. Let's get out of here. I have other plans. Let's ditch the Ministry date and have our own."

"Seriously?" was her quiet response. While Hermione had respect for the Ministry, she did not like the idea of them 'watching'.

He whispered. "Yes. How do you think that word leaked out about you and Malfoy?"

She frowned at that. Oliver stepped back and boomed loudly. "Come on, Hermione. Live a little! This is the latest model. Not even out in stores yet." He responded proudly, pointing to a wooden stick labeled Nimbus 8.0.

Hermione shuddered. "Oliver, there is no way that I am ever getting on that thing." She suddenly thought that perhaps the idea of accepting a date from the former Quidditch player was a bad idea.

"Hermione, I promise we won't go higher then you are comfortable with. Deal?"

She took a deep breath. She had ridden on a dragon and the possibility of the Ministry monitoring her _did_ bother her. She could do this. "Deal."

Oliver sat behind her, the sound of his Scottish lilt softly filling her ear. "Now, I am going to come closer to you, and I will hold onto you."

"Shouldn't it be the other way around?" she asked nervously. She had always held onto Harry or Ron when she had ridden previously.

"No." He responded confidently. He slid up closer to her, one arm wrapping around her waist gently, the other holding onto the broom near her hands. "I want you to be the person in control. I want you to feel as if you can lower the broom or raise it at any time you need to. You are in control of your own destiny, Hermione Granger."

Something in the authoritative tone of his voice allowed her to settle a bit, her body relaxing slowly against his. Being this close to her date, the woodsy musk of his cologne tickled her nose pleasantly and she feel how the years of Quidditch practice had benefited his body. Hermione furrowed her brow, preparing herself for the flight.

"Is that better, Hermione?" she could feel the warmth of Oliver's breath against her skin and she shivered slightly.

She nodded, and then realized he probably couldn't see her response. "Yes."

She felt his smile against her neck and he said, "Good. Now raise the broom gently."

Hermione landed softly, for the first time conflicted about landing so soon. "That was… enlightening."

Oliver laughed. "Aye, I think it will take a few more times up in the air to get you comfortable."

"I don't know about that." She shivered, and Oliver casually placed an arm over her.

Oliver laughed and winked. "So, I guess Quidditch playing is out of the question for tonight?"

"I think that is a safe assumption." Hermione turned, looking out over the moor. Even in the dusk, she could make out the lush green land that surrounded her. She soaked up the rich landscape, quietly appreciating the thin trail, that led to exposed ancient boulders that jutted high into the air. "This is beautiful."

"I am glad you like it. Since I was a wee lad, I lived about 20 meters that way until I moved to London after Hogwarts." He pointed the opposite way she was looking.

As Hermione slowly explored the land, she could feel Oliver's gaze on her. She climbed rocks, listened to Oliver tell amusing anecdotes about his childhood in the area. His company was enjoyable and relaxing.

While she still worried that Ginny and Oliver would always have far more in common then she would with him, she began to see that perhaps there was much more to him then his love of Quidditch.

About an hour into the date, she was thoroughly relaxed. She had stepped away from Oliver for a moment, studying some grave markings.

"Hermione, I have to admit something." Hermione almost jumped at the sound of his voice and turned to find Oliver sitting on a rock, staring at the brunette.

She walked over, hoisting herself up next to him, her legs dangling in the night air. "What is it?"

"I'm afraid that I led you here under false pretenses."

She stared curiously at the Scot, her mind racing with what he was inferring to. "And, what false pretenses would that be exactly?"

"Hermione, I brought you here not only because it was a romantic place to bring a date, but because I need your help and I wanted to do it without prying eyes."

Hermione sat up straighter, her rapt attention fully on the former Griffindor Quiddich captain. "You need me to help you. With what exactly?"

Oliver took a deep breath and stared her straight in the eye. "Hermione, I am the leader of a group called WAFL."

Oliver pronounced the acronym like the word 'waffle'. WAFL. She was familiar with the name as Harry had talked about an investigation that the Aurors were doing on the organization. It stood for Wizards Abolishing Flawed Legislation. Oliver Wood's name, as far as she knew, had not been associated with the group.

Their name indicated that they would be under a similar vein of what she did with SPEW, working to change legislation for the better. This group, however, was supposed to be far more radical and from what Harry advised her, was potentially responsible for some more recent violent acts against the Ministry.

Hermione had a hard time putting Oliver's kind face as the leader of such a misguided faction. To say that Hermione was shocked was an understatement. "I know who they are."

"Not what you were expecting, huh?" He smiled sheepishly.

He said it so innocently, so nonchalant, that she had no idea how to begin to respond. "Well, I can certainly say that in all the scenarios of how I pictured this date going, that particular revelation was not one that had even crossed my mind." She cocked her head. "How did you get involved in this… group?"

"I want to reassure you. It's not what you think,Hermione. Our reputation has been unfairly tarnished and the accusations are much worse than what the reality is. We simply want the Wizarding community to stop this unfair practice of forcing people to marry and have children. Do you know how many people are going to be forced to marry people they don't love? How many will have to consummate their marriage that don't want to? It's the equivalent of the Wizarding government allowing rape, for Godric's sake! Nevermind those with alternative lifestyles are being asked to change who they are."

She saw a fire burn within him filled with passion as he spoke further about the subject. Oliver suddenly turned from a person whose sole interest was involving Quidditch, to a person who was passionately involved in changing the current status quo.

When he finally stopped for a moment, she interjected. "What made you so passionate about this?"

"Besides the obvious?"

She nodded. "There seems to be something more than self-interest for you."

"Katie."

"Katie Bell? Your ex-fiance? What does she have to do with this?"

"Katie was… well, let me correct that, is, gay."

Second shock of the evening. Katie had always flirted with guys in school. "Did you know? Or did she keep this secret from you all this time?"

Oliver shook his head. "No! I knew the entire time that she preferred women to men. Katie has been one of my closest mates since Hogwarts. In my seventh year, she came to me, telling me about her orientation. I had figured that she would come out when she left school, but she never did."

"That couldn't have been easy for her."

He nodded and paused, as if reflecting on something, then continued. "It was me that suggested that we get engaged simply so she would not have to deal with the Ministry and having to endure a bunch of dates that would never lead anywhere. We had assumed that more rational heads would prevail and the Ministry would abolish this law, but it never happened. About a year ago, is when I founded WAFL."

"So what changed?"

"Katie tried to kill herself."

"Excuse me?" Suicide rates were typically much lower in the Wizarding community. "Why?"

"She felt… alone, lost. There was no potential of, to use a muggle phrase, a happily ever after for her. Even though I was completely at ease of us having side relationships, she wanted to opportunity to go out in public, to show her love openly."

"Is she okay?"

"She is in a much better place now. She was placed in St. Mungo's and the healers there helped her."

Hermione wanted to see the entire picture. "So this happened over a year ago. And the engagement didn't end right away?"

"No it didn't. She wasn't in the right place and I didn't want to place any more stress on her. So, when the time was right, we both agreed to dissolve our arrangement."

Hermione was trying to puzzle this together. "So, what do I have to do with all of this?"

"You have connections. I don't like our reputation of being radical. We really aren't. I would prefer to go about this the legitimate way. If anyone can get the Ministry to change the law, it's you" He grabbed her hand, looking at her in quiet desperation.

She was conflicted. "Oliver, you are giving me too much credit, I'm afraid. I don't have that kind of authority."

"But you do! Why do you think it was so important for the Ministry to make sure that the great Hermione Granger follow the law? They want to ensure compliance from the most prominent people in the wizarding community. Because if you comply, others will follow."

She did have to admit that was there was a bit of truth in that. "What are you proposing exactly?"

"That behind the scenes, we have you acting on our behalf trying to change the laws. Working to get those that are on the fence about the law to be firmly on our side. You are friends with Shacklebolt; all I am asking is that you leverage that friendship and ask him to at least consider repealing the law. We have quite a few people that are discontent with the situation and are willing to do something for the cause if it means equality and freedom. With you as part of the group, our numbers will double, quadruple even. You, the great Hermione Granger, would be leading the cause."

"Oliver…" Her mind was turning, unsure about the direction this "date" had taken.

His eyes were pleading. "Don't you think what they are doing is wrong?"

"It's not that; I do think that it's wrong to try to force people that do not want to be married into wedded matrimony. It's just that what you are proposing is something that I need to think about at length."

Oliver reached down, pulling a small purple flower out of the ground. He leaned over, putting the purple bud in her hair. "Of course. Take all the time you need."

A question nagged at Hermione. "Why are you following the Ministry's orders? I mean, did you just go on this date to ask me join your legions?"

"I would hardly call them legions." He smiled a smile that she was sure made him very popular with the lady fans of United Puddlemere. "And no, I did not ask you on this date just to ask you to join the cause, although it was part of it. I also asked you on this date because you are smart, beautiful, and you are different then most girls. I am tired of dating women who only want to date a celebrity; I want someone who will want me for who I am."

Hermione didn't respond, so he continued. "I had a lovely time with you Hermione, and I am pretty sure prior to my disclosure, you did as well. I would like to go on another date with you, if you will allow me. I promise, no talk about the Ministry, just you and I, going on a date to get to know each other better.

"I will need to think about it."

He took her hand, bowing down to kiss it. He looked up at her smiling. "I wouldn't expect anything different."


End file.
